The day I received my acceptance letter to the Mycenaean staff was the happiest day of my young life. Back in the good ole’ days, I loved writing and the fast paced environment that was Mr. Broer’s part-time newsroom.
I say “back in the good ole’ days” because my days of appreciating the written word are long gone. As the quarter has dwindled to an end, I found myself less and less capable of writing articles – something we staff writers refer to as “the Will Bennett Syndrome.”
When I told my editor, Virginia Reed, about my problem, she was less than sympathetic. “Now see here,” she said, turning around in her chair, “technically, you are my responsibility, and this does not make me happy.”
Scared speechless, I returned my gaze to my computer, willing a topic to pop into my head. My efforts were fruitless, and the Tuesday before the end of the quarter, I was still three articles behind.
Yet I never wavered in my determination. In a last desperate attempt, I locked myself in my bedroom at home on Wednesday afternoon with only my laptop, notebook, and a night’s worth of food–I would not be leaving anytime soon.
As the sun slowly rose over the horizon at dawn Thursday, I rose from my slumber victorious. My all-nighter had paid off in the form of three, beautiful articles, articles that would bring me back from the depths of despair.
Grinning wide, I confidently strolled into the newspaper classroom to applause from my peers and approached my superior, fearless and without a care in the world. As I shared the tale of my struggles with my ever-agitated editor, she gradually became less red in the cheeks as a smile broke out on her face. “You did it, kid,” she said. “I knew you’d pull through.”
Managing to save my newspaper grade was an impressive feat, I admit, but renewing my love of writing is the moral of this story. Often times, this reporter saw the bleak future ahead of him and backed down — I say no more. From this point on, as rough as the seas may become, I vow to always keep up with my articles so as to avoid another lapse in my love for the written word.